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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313868">Vhen'ara</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/squartlethecat/pseuds/squartlethecat'>squartlethecat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Death, Depression, F/M, M/M, OC insert, Other, Relatively Canon Compliant, Solas fucked up, Stillbirth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:00:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/squartlethecat/pseuds/squartlethecat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas didn't raise the veil alone. What if there was another elvhen within the Inquisition? What if it was his heart, his vhenan? The price of raising the veil is higher than he ever imagined.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Solas &amp; Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There was a time in my life<br/>Where I thought that I would never find the second part of my soul<br/>But destiny had other plans for me<br/>The moment we first met was also the first brushstroke of a new future<br/>The time we spend together feels like a diving into another world</p><p>I have so much things to change<br/>So many words left to say<br/>But there's one thing I want you to know</p><p>You are the light<br/>That brightens the darkest corners of my life<br/>You are the picture I draw, the first thing I see<br/>When I close my eyes<br/>You are the endless horizon, a whole new dimension<br/>The star in the sky that shines so bright<br/>You are the picture I draw</p><p>The Picture I Draw--Deliver the Galaxy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Tamen, please tell me you will actually be careful this time." Illya wipes a loose strand of hair back in place, her stare unwavering. Her hair, white with flashes of silver, hasn't been thoroughly washed in days and it's starting to show. The silver is now accompanied by flecks of dirt and there's a smudge across her cheek. Andruil's vallaslin paints her face in a warm amber.</p><p>Tamen groans and rolls his eyes, hands deftly braiding his own hair, a mousy brown. "Yes, Illie, I promise. I don't think my mother nagged me as much as you do." He winks at her. "And when I get back, maybe we can get a proper bath. All these humans and their modesty. You'd think they'd never seen skin before. Do you think anyone told them that Andraste had to bathe in the nude?" He continues his braid and pulls his hair away from his face. Mythal's vallaslin sprawls across his forehead in a deep green, branches extending past his cheekbones and into his hairline.</p><p>With an eye roll seen round the world, Illya stood up and put out the last embers of their campfire. They set up camp a good distance from the village at Haven, but decided closer was better. There were too many roaming druffalo about, plus some fresh bear scat nearby, likely attracted by the lumbering bovines. Luckily, all that was left to do was pack up the cooking supplies from breakfast.</p><p>"I don't think it was so much modesty as it was you parading around camp, completely and utterly nude." Illya tosses him a soft leather so he can wipe out his bowl.</p><p>Tamen's brows furrow as he half heartedly wipes the leftover porridge from his bowl. "It's not my fault the pot for the hot water was so far from the actual bathing area, is it? Honestly, if they're going to do any kind of decent bathing, the hot water should be nearby! You have the luxury or washing up with water that isn't halfway frozen and you keep it across the entire town from where you expect people to clean? Besides, I think all the yelling was from the men who are painfully jealous of my endowment!" </p><p>A sopping wet and nearly freezing rag flies over the remnants of the fire and his Tamen square in the face. His shriek of dismay sends Illya into fits of laughter. He sputters and tries to throw it back but misses terribly.</p><p>"Was that really necessary? You hit me in the face with a freezing rag as a send-off?" Tamen sputters.</p><p>Illya wipes the tears from her eyes, her roaring laughter now just giggles. "Oh, please. You deserved that. Consider yourself lucky that they didn't kick us out entirely. What would you say to Keeper Deshanna if you had to run back to the clan, tail between your legs, admitting you got us kicked out of Haven for being naked?"</p><p>"She's not nearly as much of a prude as these Chantry-goers. Call me blasphemous, but I fully believe that even Mythal had to bathe in the nude. I know, I know! Scandalous!" He dumps out his pack in search of a dry leather to wipe his face. Illya groans. It took him nearly 30 minutes to put everything in his pack, complaining the entire time. </p><p>She retrieves her own pack and reaches inside to find a small pouch containing the amulet she wears every day. A light green pendant in the shape of a wolf, threaded with a worn black leather string. The pendant itself is well cared for and stored in a finely cured leather bag. Not a scratch or chip, the wolf is emerald green with whorls of white and silver. Absentmindedly running her fingers over the leather and thinking she will need a replacement soon, she doesn't notice Tamen sitting down beside her, but he knows better than to try any kind of prank while she cradles her most precious treasure.</p><p>Tamen speaks softly, "Illie, you know you've never told me what that is. From the first day we met, you've had it on or with you. Who gave it to you?" A question he poses without real expectation for an answer. He has asked hundreds of times, but his curiousity never satisfied.</p><p>Illya undoes the clasp and places it around her neck, hints of tears in her eyes. "It doesn't matter, Tamen. The person it reminds me of is gone so just leave it at that." She stands up and brushes off her pants. "Although, maybe if you come back to me unharmed, I'll tell you the story." She picks up her pack and starts making her way towards Haven.</p><p>With a deep sigh, Tamen flops onto his back. "You know I'll have to come back safely with a promise like that!"</p><p>"It's not a promise, it's just... An incentive." Illya shoots over her shoulder. "Now get up and get going to the conclave! Keeper Deshanna wants to know the details so you had better actually make it to the meeting this time!"</p><p>Tamen reluctantly sits up and reaches for his pack. "You know that wasn't my fault! Gehannon never wants to have any fun and he said we would be done before the meeting started. How was I supposed to know he was so good in bed?"</p><p>With another deep sigh, he stands up and brushes off his pants. His pack slung over his shoulder, Tamen sets off towards the Conclave</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey all! Thanks for reading or skimming or critiquing! Life is just kind of shitty right now and I've been daydreaming this story for a while now. I apologize in advance for mistakes or inaccuracies. This is 110% an alternate universe I picture in my head every day so I just wanted to get it out!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I'm having fun with this! :) Also I'm bad at summaries, lol.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Illya hesitates at the gates of Haven. Though the doors are open to accommodate visitors arriving for the conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she feels wholly unwelcome. Her pointed ears and vallaslin mark her as an outside twice over. She dreads the stares of merchants who assume she’s stealing when she just admiring a piece of jewelry or well-crafted knife. If it wasn’t for her headaches, she wouldn’t even bother going into town. Unfortunately, her elfroot supply is low and she seems to be missing several glass bottles, which Tamen denied any knowledge of. The fact that his meager supply of wine was also gone, and he was suspiciously not hungover in the morning were mere coincidences, he claimed.<br/>
</p>
<p>“Deep breath in, and out,” she mumbles to herself. She straightens her back but grips the straps of her pack tightly. A few more deep breaths, and she steps past the gates. Seggrit is still setting up shop and it seems particularly quiet. Either everyone is still asleep or more people are attending the conclave than I thought, she muses. It is barely past sunrise so likely most people are still waking up and getting ready for the day. All the better for her. Fewer people means smaller crowds so she can get in and out.<br/>
</p>
<p>The durgen'len, Varric, waves at her from his tent. She gives him meek smile and half-hearted wave in return. The few trips she's made into Haven, Varric has always been a smiling face. The scowling woman who always seems to be watching him is nowhere in sight, thankfully. </p>
<p>"Where are you off to so early in the morning, Snowflake?" Varric asks, making his way to his small fire to warm his hands. The tent flap is open slightly, and Illya can see there are pages upon pages of writing inside. She notices that Varric's fingertips are stained black, likely from all the writing he seemed to be doing the night before. </p>
<p>Wait, Snowflake?</p>
<p>"Snowflake? Why did you call me Snowflake?" Illya's brow furrows. Is this some kind of durgen'len custom she has forgotten? </p>
<p>Varric chuckles; a deep rumble in his broad chest. "Well, you have white hair and I've never known anyone quieter than you. Have you ever heard a snowflake fall? No? It's perfect for you." </p>
<p>"I... suppose not. Thank you, I think. I'm just grabbing some supplies from Adan. Our potions and dried herbs have fallen suspiciously low as of late. If you'll excuse me, I need to stock up before Tamen returns. I need to find a better hiding place, apparently." </p>
<p>Varric chuckles again, louder this time. "If you need me to keep a stash for you, just ask. Streaker won't be able to rummage through much with the guards all over him whenever he sets foot inside the gates. See you around, Snowflake." Illya laughs despite herself. Streaker as a nickname for Tamen is definitely appropriate. Hopefully, he can keep himself fully clothed at the temple.</p>
<p>She turns away to head towards Adan's cabin. Her eyes linger a fraction of a second longer on the shiny new arrows that Seggrit has finally put out, but his glare keeps her from stopping. He must not want her money that badly, she thinks to herself.</p>
<p>She briskly makes her way up the steps, careful not to slip on any ice. She stops at the cabin door, her fingertips on the handle, remembering her manners at the last second. So much time spent among the Dalish sometimes makes her forget most shemlen don't like if when you walk inside a building without knocking. A deep breath to compose herself, and a light knock brings Adan to the door.</p>
<p>"Yes, what do you want?" Adan is to the point, something Illya appreciates.</p>
<p>Illya ticks off her list on her fingers. "I need five bundles of dried elfroot, three healing potions and five small lyrium potions. If you have any extra glass bottles, I'll take a few of those as well."</p>
<p>Adan scoffs at her large order but makes his way to his potion chest, motioning her to step inside. "Lyrium potions? You hiding a mage out there or something?"</p>
<p>"You never know who you may run into in your travels. I like to have some on hand if someone has a need," she explains</p>
<p>"Makes sense, I suppose. If you've got the coin, I don't care what you use it for." He holds his hand out and beckons for her to pay. Illya hands him a small coin pouch, nearly all the money they have left. She nods her thanks and leaves.</p>
<p>She closes the door behind her. She squints and brings a hand to her brow. The sun reflecting off the ice and snow can be blinding after being indoors. She blinks rapidly to try and clear her vision, rubbing her eyes when blinking doesn't help. Something in the sky doesn't look right. Maybe I rubbed my eyes too hard, she thinks. Why is there a green tint to the clouds? Have I been inside so long?</p>
<p>Her eyes to the sky, time seems to slow. A sickly green spreads across the horizon. The clouds are swallowed by a flash of bright light. In an instant, Haven is a disaster. </p>
<p>Rooftops have holes ripped in them as chunks of rock rain from the sky. Angry green flames devour the thatched coverings. Townspeople panic and cover their heads as everything is awash in an emerald ocean of death and magic.</p>
<p>Illya stumbles down the steps in a frenzy. A feeling of dread overwhems her as she realizes where the explosion began. The Temple of Sacred Ashes. </p>
<p>Tamen is there. </p>
<p>She breaks into a run. No one else matters but Tamen. He is all she has left. She can't lose him. She can't. </p>
<p>Tamen.</p>
<p>Tamen.</p>
<p>Tamen.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solas messed up.</p><p>if you're reading, thanks! i really am enjoying myself. the chapters feel so short but i'm sure writing just takes tremendous practice!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A chill wind whispers across the snow-covered plains. </span>
  <span>Druffalo</span>
  <span> wander in search of sparse grasses. A calf bounds between its mother and herd members, not having learned the dangers that can lurk in the woods not far behind them. Luckily for the calf and its herd, the danger is asleep in its den.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The only soul in sight is a lone elf, head completely bare of winter dressing and even hair; his feet wrapped in plain leathers but otherwise uncovered. The elf's tunic has been mended times, with patches upon patches. In his tight grasp, a simple staff of hand carved ash. Beautiful in its simplicity, the staff is finely polished and the grip painstakingly corded to provide maximum comfort.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The elf watches as the </span>
  <span>druffalo</span>
  <span> herd continuous the search for hidden troves of grass; their giant heads pushing away mounds of snow for the hope of fresh buds. He watches, but does not see. His mind is racing, knuckles white with the tight grip on his staff, jaw tense and lips set in a thin line.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know, I suspect you'll hate this, but </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Briala</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> reminds me of--”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Felassan</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>The fool.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> How could he not see the chaos this world was in? How the People, our People, have been twisted and warped into these mere shadows of what they once were? </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>And to think to even compare her to </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Briala</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>?</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Absurd.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> scans the valley, looking for his scouts to return with news of the conclave, but it remains quiet. A soft crunching of snow underneath small fennec paws the only noise in the distance. He allows himself a small huff of impatience.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It is at that moment that the sky is cleaved. An explosion of intangible proportions rips across the skyline. Solas stumbles backwards, eyes wide with shock. It’s as though a dull and rusted sword severed the heavens. He anticipated an explosion, but not of this magnitude. Something is wrong.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hours pass before a scout finally finds him. Kneeling low and breathing heavily, the scout brings news of the conclave and yet another failure.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"My Lord, I am not sure how, but the orb is gone,” the scout blurts out. “I searched and searched but turned up nothing. I met my contact at the rendezvous, but their search was also fruitless," he relays with a bowed head, too nervous to look Solas in the eye.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Were there any survivors? What of Corypheus?" Every word is carefully spoken to hide his rage and disappointment.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The scout fidgets, his knees starting to give way, having run without stopping to bring Solas the news. "He was not there, Lord </span>
  <span>Fen'Harel</span>
  <span>. There was only one survivor, a </span>
  <span>Dalish</span>
  <span> elf. The guardsmen from Haven apprehended another Dalish, a woman, who was attempting to flee with him but he was unconscious. She must have put up a fight because she was knocked to the ground and carried off with him, both in chains."</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Where did they take them?" Solas' voice is hardened, his staff creaking under his </span>
  <span>ever-tightening</span>
  <span> grasp.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"To Haven, likely to the dungeons there," he replies. He hesitates, but then asks, "My Lord... What do we do now? Where do you want me to go?"</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> takes a deep breath to steady </span>
  <span>himself</span>
  <span>. He forces himself to loosen the grasp on his staff, and relaxes his jaw. "Go back to the main encampment," he decides. "I will go to Haven to investigate this lone survivor and send word through the contact there. Stop nowhere and speak to no one. Leave now."</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With great relief, the scout stands up and leaves. </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> waits for him to be out of earshot before he lets loose a string of curses. </span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How could this happen? What did I not anticipate?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He questions himself over and over, pacing and cursing. Another mistake added to his list, </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> gathers his meager supplies and heads towards Haven. </span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He will not allow this to set him back. The entire fate of his People rests upon his shoulders.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>illya has a panic attack in the dungeons of haven</p><p>9/22/20: i misremembered the cells in haven--apparently you just get some sleeping roll on the floor! updated the chapter to reflect that :)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok so like most people, i owe FenxShiral 1000% credit for my elvhen language. i dont know how to link or i'd do it!!! so if you see this, THANK YOU &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> I swear on my life, </em> <em> when </em> <em> Tamen </em> <em> finally wakes up, I will kill him myself </em> <em> …  </em> </p><p>Illya leans her head back against the cool stones of her cell. A hand reaches for her pendant before she remembers it’s gone. The emptiness at her breastbone is unsettling; terrifying, even. Shortly after arriving back in Haven, all of her belongings were taken. Her pack was dumped on a table and rummaged through. Her bow confiscated, along with her daggers and skinning knife. Her few remaining coins quickly pocketed. All of these possessions are replaceable, but her pendant is not. She begged and pleaded, but it did her no good. It was turned over to the scowling woman with sharp cheekbones who always shadows Varric, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. </p><p>Illya half-heartedly pulls at her shackles. All attempts so far have been in vain, but she has little else to occupy her time. A cold, damp and nearly pitch black cell is devoid of anything except a worn sleeping roll for her bed and a leaking wooden bucket to relieve herself. She’s thankful for the dark, at least, as her head hasn’t stopped pounding since her last “talk” with that hooded shemlen woman. Her questions had been too many, too fast, too prying. How did she even know who she and Tamen were? Had she seen them in town? Perhaps she had been present at Tamen’s bath incident? Either way, the faster Illya could find a way to get herself and Tamen out of this place, the better.  </p><p><em>But</em> <em>Tamen's</em><em> palm… </em><em>that mark… </em> </p><p>Her hand goes to her amulet, but there’s nothing there. Her one comfort, taken away; possibly forever. She struggles harder now, desperation creeping in. She knows this magic. She knows it better than anyone. </p><p><em>V</em><em>henan</em><em>.</em> <em>Ara</em> <em>sa’lath</em><em>. </em><em>Bright smile. Shining eyes. Soft lips. </em><em>Solas</em><em>.</em> </p><p>“No,” she whispers. “No, no, no.” Nearly frantic, Illya pulls at the cuffs while folding in her thumb, trying to slide it off. A jagged edge bites the soft skin of her wrist, drawing blood, but she doesn’t notice.  </p><p><em> “W </em> <em> hat would you say if I told you there was a way to stop </em> <em> the </em> <em> Evanuris </em> <em> ?” </em> <em> Tender hands gently cup her face. “What if I said I could keep you safe?” His thumb wipes away a </em> <em> te </em> <em> ar from her cheek. “Both of you?” </em> </p><p>She keeps twisting and pulling, writhing. The clanging of the rusted links is drawing attention. “Hey! Keep it down in there!” A disgruntled guard makes his way towards her cell, irritation in his heavy footsteps. “Fuckin' elves,” he mutters under his breath. “Adan, you got anything for this one? She’s tryin' to make more work for ya. Bloodied up her wrists.” </p><p><em>“</em><em>Vhenan</em><em>, please. </em><em>Ir</em> <em>abelas</em><em>. </em><em>If I had kno</em><em>wn</em><em>...”His</em><em> breath shudders</em><em> and hands tremble. He stumbles towards her.</em> </p><p>Adan's chair scrapes across the stone floor, his leather boots scuffing as he walks. “Yes, Sam, just give me a second.” Exhaustion written in every line on his face, he wearily kneels down in front of Illya's cell. “Miss, please stop struggling. I’m stretched thin as it is and I don’t have any potions to spare if you hurt yourself.” </p><p><em>“</em><em>Tel'abelas</em><em>! </em><em>May this place be your tomb</em><em>!</em><em>”</em> <em>Tears mix with ash and dust, trailing over her cheeks </em> </p><p>A heavy sigh turned grunt of frustration, Adan reaches for his pack. “I will need your help with this,” as he nods towards Illya. “I’m no healer so I need to keep her from hurting herself beyond what I can repair. Go find some help and we’ll get a sleeping drought in her.”  </p><p>Sam spins on his heel, quickly climbing the stairs. Adan carefully measures his herbs. There is a fine line between deep sleep and death with the ingredients he has on hand. His glance flicks towards Illya. “Don’t worry. You’ll feel better soon, and then I can get back to attending your friend.” He mixes the drought slowly, careful not to spill. “For whatever good it will do him,” he mumbles to himself. </p><p><em> A silent entrance. </em> <em> Born sleeping. Breathless. </em> <em> His cheeks. My nose. His ears. My </em> <em> lips. </em> <em> His fault. </em> </p><p>Clanking metal greaves tumble down the stairs. The guardsman leads a templar recruit to the cells. “She’s down here, Kal. I think she’s right feral. Hear her bangin' around? Shouldn’t be too hard to hold her down and get her to drink whatever Adan's makin'.” </p><p>“Alright, it’s done.” Adan stands up and gestures towards Illya’s cell. “You two go first. Don’t hurt her or else you can answer to the Seeker. One of you hold her arms and the other her legs. I’ll give the potion.” Sam and Kal readily nod in agreement; neither of them want to face Seeker Cassandra's wrath. Sam fishes out his key and slowly opens the cell door.  </p><p><em> It’s his fault she never took a breath. It’s his fault </em> <em> my heart was shattered. It’s his fault </em> <em> my </em> <em> every day is agony. </em> <em> His fault. </em> </p><p>The gate creaks.  </p><p><em> He </em> <em> did this. </em> </p><p>“Easy now. This will make you feel all better.” </p><p><em> “ </em> <em> Mi’nas’sal’in </em> <em> an </em> <em> , </em> <em> vhenan </em> <em> … </em> <em> ” </em> </p><p>The cold chain mail of Sam’s glove scraping against her bare arm snaps the tether inside her. Illya lashes out at the him, her fist landing a solid blow on his nose. He stumbles back and yelps in surprise, tripping over his own feet. Blood pours from his nose, soaking his undershirt.  </p><p>Kal is not far behind, and grabs for her arms. She is too fast for him, and he misses.  </p><p>“Don’t let her escape!” Kal bellows, charging again. His heavy plate armor slows him, and his fingers only grasp the edges of her cloak, but this is just enough to give the Sam time to tackle her to the ground. His nose still bleeding heavily, he pins her to the ground with a knee at the small of her back.  </p><p>“Filthy knife eared bitch. You’ll pay for this” Sam hisses. He’s so blinded with pain and rage that he doesn’t notice Illya grab ahold of one of his greaves. He screams as frost magic envelops his entire foot. Ice crystals crackle as they spread across his foot. </p><p>“Get her off!” Sam squeals, attempting to shake his foot but finds it’s frozen to the ground. Every twist causes excruciating pain as the frost travels up to his knee. “She’s an apostate!” In his shock, Illya manages to wriggle out of his grasp. She launches herself towards the door as the Kal raises his sword, preparing for a smite. </p><p>Her fingers brush against the bars. She is so close. </p><p><em> “I give you this pendant as a symbol of our love. </em> <em> ” </em> </p><p>Her breath is sucked out of her lungs. They feel collapsed; she can’t draw another. She clutches at her throat. Her knees buckle and give out, sending her sprawling to the floor. Images of Adan and a bottle dance before her eyes. The guard's knee is again pressing against the small of her back, her wrists quickly slapped back into her cuffs. A bitter liquid is forced into her mouth, while fingers clamp his nostrils closed to force her to swallow.  </p><p><em> “ </em> <em> Vhen’an’ara </em> <em> . </em> <em> ” </em> </p><p>Blackness. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Vhenan - heart<br/>Ara sa’lath - my one love<br/>Tel'abelas - not sorry<br/>Mi’nas’sal’inan - I feel the knife once more within my soul (I miss you)<br/>Vhen’an’ara - Heart’s desire. Lit. journey of the heart</p><p> </p><p>again, thank you for this elvhen! i'd be lost without you, FenxShiral!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solas is called upon to heal a feisty prisoner</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oh shit! like i've said before, i'm having fun with this :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Doomed child. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Ir</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>abelas</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. I did not intend for this to happen. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>are an unfortunate addition to my ever-growing list of failures.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> dips a rag in a bucket of ice water and wipes </span>
  <span>Tamen’s</span>
  <span> forehead. His fever has only just broken and his forehead is damp with sweat. His eyes trail over </span>
  <span>Tamen’s</span>
  
  <span>Vallaslin</span>
  <span>, simultaneously horrified yet fascinated. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The pain he felt as these marred his face would </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>been extensive. I wonder, are they punished for flinching or crying out? How can every inch of this man appear so overwhelmingly </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Dalish</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, yet his name means nothing? </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Tamen</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> has no translation.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knocking at the door pulls Solas from his musings and he bids them entry. “You had your work cut out for you, didn’t you, Chuckles?” Varric whistles softly as he motions to Tamen, closing the cabin door behind him. Green crackles jump across his palm, sending small spasms of pain up his arm. Though not yet conscious, the agony of the magic coursing through him causes </span>
  <span>Tamen</span>
  <span> to writhe and clench his fist as he lay on his makeshift bed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas</span>
  
  <span>rewets his</span>
  <span> soft leather rag with ice water and dabs at </span>
  <span>Tamen’s</span>
  <span> forehead</span>
  <span> again.</span>
  <span> “He is improving, which is more than I would have </span>
  <span>said even </span>
  <span>mere days before</span>
  <span>,” </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> replies. </span>
  <span>Tamen’s</span>
  <span> creased brow relaxes at the soothing, cool rag, but he doesn’t wake.</span>
  <span> “I suspect he will regain consciousness in the next day or so.” </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> stands up and </span>
  <span>dries his hands on his pants. There are deep circles under his eyes, giving </span>
  <span>a </span>
  <span>glimpse </span>
  <span>int</span>
  <span>o the exhaustion he feels</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chuckles, you look beat. Why don’t you rest? You’ve done the hard part. I can handle him from here,” Varric suggests as he pulls up a chair next to </span>
  <span>Tamen’s</span>
  <span> bed. He sits down and kicks his feet onto the mattress. He then pulls a book out of his bag, gently waving Solas away. “Trust me. You won’t do Streaker any good if you pass out as he wakes up. I’ll come get you if something happens.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas gently bows his head, hands clasped behind him. “Thank you, Master </span>
  <span>Tethras</span>
  <span>. Please do not hesitate to find me should something happen. I will retire to the cottage next door.” He picks up his staff and books, heading towards his meager lodgings. A single hay-stuffed bed and threadbare blanket; sparse bookshelves; a wooden basin for washing. A simple room but it meets his needs. He stores his staff next to the bed, within reach should the need arises. He doesn’t bother putting his books on the shelf and simply leaves them in his bag, too tired to care. He pulls back his sparse covering, preparing to lose himself in the Fade when he hears a knock at his door.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a sigh of defeat, </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> straightens himself and </span>
  <span>heads towards the door. He opens it just enough so that he blocks </span>
  <span>the entrance with his body, leaving no room for anyone to invite themselves in. “May I help you?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Adan is on the other side of the door, looking as exhausted as </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span>. “I need your help. </span>
  <span>I’m no healer and I have the prisoner's accomplice in the dungeons. She went mad and injured a guard. It took a smite to bring her down and now she needs healing,” he </span>
  <span>says as he </span>
  <span>rubs</span>
  <span> his eyes, stinging from too</span>
  <span> little sleep. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> gives a polite bow. “</span>
  <span>I will see what I can do. Allow me to gather my things.” Without allowing any </span>
  <span>curious townsfolk to peer inside, </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> briefly shuts the door to pick up his staff and bag, hoping he won’t be gone long enough to need anything else.</span>
  
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He adjusts his bag on his back and gestures for Adan to lead the way. “You said she was brought</span>
  <span> down with a smite. I am surprised the Seeker was not watching over this prisoner herself</span>
  <span>, given she is a mage”</span>
  
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> muses. </span>
  <span>Cassandra’s </span>
  <span>suspicion of </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span>' sudden appearance in Haven was no secret, and he often found her </span>
  <span>nearby</span>
  <span> when she wasn’t questioning </span>
  <span>Varric</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one knew she was a mage,” Adan grunts as he pushes against the heavy door of the chantry. “I imagine they would have given her </span>
  <span>magebane</span>
  <span> as a precaution, but everyone assumed she was just some </span>
  <span>Dalish</span>
  <span> scrapper like the man you’ve been watching over.”  The rusted hinges creak and moan as the door swings open, causing onlookers to stare. Adan looks over his shoulder and beckons for Solas to follow him to the dungeons below. Solas notices that Seeker Pentaghast has taken a post near the door, likely to prevent any additional escape attempts.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I recognized them from around Haven and never took her for a mage. Nice girl, if quiet.</span>
  
  <span>Tamen</span>
  <span> called</span>
  <span> her </span>
  <span>Illya</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> Complete opposite of that </span>
  <span>braggart</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  
  <span>Adan lifts a torch from the wall, holding it out so they can make their way down the damp stone </span>
  <span>stairway. “Anyway,</span>
  
  <span>s</span>
  <span>he</span>
  <span> started to panic</span>
  <span> against her chains,</span>
  <span> so I figured I would do her a kindness and give her a sleeping potion.</span>
  
  <span>Sam went to grab her so I could give it but she punched him right in the nose</span>
  <span>,” he recounts</span>
  <span>, hand running along the wall for balance.</span>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Next thing I know, Sam is howling that his foot is frozen. </span>
  <span>He’s lucky he isn’t going to lose a toe. The </span>
  <span>templar</span>
  <span> helping us, </span>
  <span>Kal</span>
  <span>, struck her with a smite. Primarily out of fear I imagine. Either way, I think the smite on top of the sleeping potion was too much.</span>
  <span> She hasn’t woken and it’s been two days.</span>
  
  <span>Her breathing is </span>
  <span>irregular</span>
  <span> and she’s freezing down here.</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking their final steps down the stairs and turning into the hallway, Adan offhandedly adds, “You know, it was strange. Tamen has a tattoo on his face. She had one, too, but it seemed to just… fade away after the smite.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> trips over the final step. </span>
  <span>“Her </span>
  <span>Vallaslin</span>
  <span> went away?” He asks, </span>
  <span>desperately trying to sound uninterested.</span>
  
  <span>An invisible hand clenches his heart as his stomach flips.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what they call them? Yeah, </span>
  <span>before my eyes they just seemed to fizzle out. I thought you people had them forever,” he </span>
  <span>wonders aloud</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> bites the inside of his cheek</span>
  <span>, the familiar copper </span>
  <span>tang</span>
  <span> of blood on his tongue.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> Imbicile. Are we all the same to them? No matter. Surely, we all look so similar to him that he forgot she was never marked. And another name with no meaning. A feeble grasp at trying to understand a world that would condemn them both.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not Dalish,” Solas finally manages. Adan merely shrugs and makes his way deeper into the dungeons. He finally stops in front of a cell door. “Kal, give me a hand with this door. This one always sticks and I’m in no state to fight it,” Adan motions tiredly and sits down heavily on a bench next to Kal. He approaches Solas cautiously, suspicion written plainly on his face. He takes Solas in from head to toe, as if sizing him up. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No funny business, apostate. Your friend in here is lucky she </span>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <span> immediately put to death for attacking a guard. </span>
  <span>Seeker Cassandra and Lady </span>
  <span>Leliana</span>
  <span> want her alive, but if you try anything, </span>
  <span>I won’t hesitate to put you down like the dog you are,” </span>
  <span>Kal</span>
  <span> threatens as he drives an iron covered fingertip into </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span>’ breastbone.</span>
  
  <span>His other hand grips his sword.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> remains unflinching, </span>
  <span>hands again behind his back. </span>
  <span>Anger </span>
  <span>darkening</span>
  <span> his </span>
  <span>face</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> says nothing in response as </span>
  <span>Kal</span>
  
  <span>turns away to unlock the door. </span>
  <span>His hands clench and unclench as he </span>
  <span>struggles</span>
  <span> to reign in his </span>
  <span>frustration.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Disgusting</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. Their</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> hatred towards magic is founded </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>upon fear. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>The mages here struggle against the Veil for </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>a </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>whisper</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> of magic, and these </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>templars</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> treat them like animals for simply attempting to understand.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door swings open, and Solas has his first glimpse inside. On a sleeping roll is a tumble of white and silver hair, face towards the wall. Knotted and frayed, a few stray locks dance across the top of her ear. Her face is buried in her travel worn cloak. Her knees are pulled up into her chest. She shivers with each breath and a slight trickle of blood runs from her </span>
  <span>rat's</span>
  <span> nest hair. Solas hesitates in the open door.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Silver and white.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> Just like…</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Adan calls from his seat on the bench, “She bought several potions from me. I guess those mana potions really were for her.” Kal scoffs beside him, rolling his eyes. “You think?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas</span>
  <span> hears nothing</span>
  <span> but his heartbeat pounding in his ears.</span>
  <span> His trembling hand reaches out and parts the hair from her face. </span>
  <span>Her cheeks</span>
  <span> are sunken in</span>
  <span> and her </span>
  <span>lips a pale blue</span>
  <span>, and yet he would recognize her anywhere. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Streaks of silver cutting through the brightest white. Sultry lips. High cheekbones. Dainty nose. Perfectly sculpted silver brows. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Vhenan</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. But </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Illya</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>? Does no one know your true name? </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mind races as he simply stares at her. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“May this </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>place be your tomb!” </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas flinches as if struck, a memory he has revisited time and time again but never healed from. The last words she ever spoke to him, and they were a curse he carried in his heart every day. A shuddering breath escapes him as he struggles for control over his emotions. Grinding his teeth and willing himself to approach her, he kneels at her side to examine her head wound. He gently parts her hair so he can see the nasty gash on the back of her scalp. He waves healing light over the wound and the flesh mends itself, slowly knitting back together. He then casts a warming spell, his own hands still trembling as they make their way from her head to her feet. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raises his palms to begin the warming spell again, when a hand shoots out of the worn cloak and grabs hold of his wrist. Blue eyes shining with anger, Illya's gaze bores into his very soul. Solas can’t move or even blink as she pulls him towards her and whispers scathingly in his ear.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Teldirthalelan, vara u’em.” </span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Teldirthalelan: an insult, one who will not learn </p>
<p>Vara u'em: leave me alone </p>
<p>thanks for reading! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solas retreats to his cottage after reuniting with Illya</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>YOU GUYS HOLY CRAAAAP. life has been such a shitshow disaster. covid, horrible mental health, whatever. i finally got up the nerve to write a bit again. if anyone is reading, thank you! i forgot how much i love solas, lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Why are you here? What could you possibly want?” Illya’s grip tightens around Solas’s wrist, her voice a quiet hiss in his ear. The bones in his wrist creak in protest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can assure you that I can explain, but now is not the time nor place,” Solas whispers quietly in response. “We are being watched very carefully. I will find you in the Fade and we will discuss it there,” he attempts to reason.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their exchange has not gone unnoticed. “Hey! Is there a problem?” Kal calls from his seat on the bench. His hand is resting on the hilt of his sword, warning as clear as a bell.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas’ head slowly turns to face Kal, though Illya’s hand is still locked on his wrist. “No, I believe she was startled awake as I was working,” Solas turns back to Illya and locks his eyes with hers. “Isn’t that right?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Please.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pleading stare, but one she heeds. Illya gruffly releases his wrist, turning away from him with a grunt of disgust. “I don’t need your help navigating the Fade,” she whispers scathingly. She attempts to stand but her knees </span>
  <span>buckle,</span>
  <span> and she pitches forward. Solas reacts instinctively and steadies her, hands on her shoulders. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His touch renews her fury and she growls, “Do not touch me.” She stumbles backwards and slams her back against the stone wall of her cell, slowly sliding down against it until she is sitting. Pulling her knees to her chest, she wraps her cloak tightly around her shoulders, eyes downcast. “Please, just go,” she mutters. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas has to stop himself from reaching out to her. His every muscle is screaming in protest. He needs to comfort her, hold her.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How long has it been?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods and quietly begins to gather his meager supplies, but he risks a final glance towards her and their eyes meet. Illya’s wide eyes glisten with unshed tears, a slight tremble to her lips. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She is afraid of me. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The realization is too painful to bear. He hurriedly packs the rest of his bag and closes the cell door behind him. He stops in front of Kal and Adan, tightly gripping the strap of his supply bag. “I expect she will make a full recovery, provided she is allowed to rest and fed something more nutritious than stale bread and water. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to rest before I attend to her friend.” Without even waiting for a reply, he hastily bows and makes his way towards his small cottage. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Vhenan. Why? What do you know? Will you find me in the Fade?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brushes past Cassandra on the stairs, whose attempts to slow him go unnoticed. A crowd has gathered in the chantry </span>
  <span>foyer,</span>
  <span> but he slips through easily. Icy cobblestones navigated without half a thought, Solas takes the path around the other cottages to avoid running into someone else who may try to stop him. So lost in thought, Solas doesn’t notice Varric waiting for him just outside Adan’s hut.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, Chuckles,” Varric quips. To his credit, Solas doesn’t startle outwardly, though his heart nearly explodes out of his chest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose one could word it that way. Excuse me, Master Tethras, but I require rest. The other prisoner required more healing than I anticipated.” Solas opens the door and quickly closes it behind him, leaving no room for any unwanted guests. He places a simple ward on the door that will alert him to anyone outside. Instead of crawling into bed like he knows he should, Solas simply stands in front of the door, unable to move.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When did you awaken, Vhenan? Have you been alone? Did you search for me, as I searched for you?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His knees tremble and he leans forward, resting his head against the door of the cottage.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, you would not have searched for me. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A strangled sob escapes him as he leans more heavily into the door. Clenched fists reach above his head, causing the door to creak.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Vhenan, where have you been? I have searched and searched, always fruitless in my endeavors, only to stumble upon you in a ravaged </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>h</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>uman village.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Exhausted and heartbroken, another sob escapes him; louder this time, a single tear escaping from a well-protected façade of indifference and calm. </span>
  <span>His nails slide against the rough grain of the door</span>
  <span>, leaving behind jagged scratches.</span>
  <span> His legs no longer able to hold him upright buckle</span>
  <span> and he crumples to the cold ground, utterly defeated.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I have failed you, Vhenan. I have failed myself. I have failed…</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p><span>Solas can’t bring himself to finish his thought. His body </span><span>racking with sobs,</span><span> it takes </span><span>all</span><span> his strength not to cry out in </span><span>heartbreak</span><span>.</span> <span>Enveloping </span><span>himself in his weak and trembling arms, </span><span>he curls over, </span><span>anguished sobs </span><span>breaking through his barrier.</span></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Vhen'an</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>’ara. Ir abelas. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I never knew you, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>but my heart cries out for you </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>each</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> day.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her name ringing in his head, </span>
  <span>tightly gripping the shattered remains of his heart, Solas drags himself to his </span>
  <span>simple bed. </span>
  <span>His </span>
  <span>bag </span>
  <span>on the floor, he reaches inside and pulls out </span>
  <span>his secret and most </span>
  <span>cherished treasure, a </span>
  <span>grey wolf pendant</span>
  <span> with</span>
  <span> a trail of bright silver</span>
  <span> across the back</span>
  <span>. A small comfort, he slowly rubs his fingers across its snout</span>
  <span>, down its back, </span>
  <span>underneath the tail.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“For you, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>ma’sa’lath</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>The colors remind me of your eyes.” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, how brightly she smiled. The brightest star in my sky.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His lids heavy with exhaustion, </span>
  <span>Solas </span>
  <span>allows himself to be pulled into the Fad</span>
  <span>e, her memory enveloping him in warmth.</span>
  
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dhaveira</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. Vhenan.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dhaveira  --&gt; kissed by snow or snow kissed. From the words:  eir  (snow) +  dhava  (kiss) </p>
<p>fenxshiral, of course!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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